Empty
by ForbiddenFig
Summary: Sasuke doesn't know how to deal with his emotions, and for once Naruto is left to clean up Mr. Perfect's mess. Angsty, confused, and emotionally masochistic Sasuke vs. determined Naruto.


I'm uploading this mostly out of sentimental reasons. (Its my first real attempt at NaruSasu, and my first shared fanfic.) I am planning on writing some type of sequel eventually... hopefully. I might leave it at that, or I might (eventually) get around to revising them and sketching out some type of plot. If anyone has ideas, feel free to pitch them to me. If I get motivation, I'll definitely write it. (Bribe? what bribe?!) For now, its just this short, scrappy little drabble. Unbeta'd.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If I did... well, it would suck

* * *

He wasn't quite sure how long he had spent staring at the closet. At some point he must have stepped back to fall weakly to the foot of his bed, but he had little to no recollection of this ever actually happening.

Naruto had found the door to the closet wide open when he had entered the room some time ago, and had subsequently found himself staring stupidly at it, a pained expression pinned half-heartedly to his face.

If Sasuke were there, he mused, the brunette would have made some scathing (and infinitely clever) comment about how Naruto should stop thinking, as the blond was obviously mentally constipated by this point. But that was the problem, really. Sasuke WASN'T there to make comments, scathing or otherwise.

And the closet always reminded Naruto of this fact. Every empty hanger reminded him exactly how empty his life had become because of it. And there were many empty hangers, since Naruto's clothes did not consist of the hanging kind; if they did, he was always too lazy to do much more than stuff them in a drawer, or lay the out haphazardly over the top of whatever random surface presented itself at the time. In fact, the only hanger in that whole damn empty closet that remained used was the one that held the coat Sasuke had forced upon Naruto that winter. The social retard had claimed to buy it in the hopes of covering up some of the "distasteful crap" that the blond wore, seeing as he could never succeed in throwing them away. Dressing "respectably" (AKA: like a cactus was shoved up your ass, manifesting itself in your hair) was very important, he claimed. Naruto interpreted this as "so you won't freeze your ass off because I care".

Needless to say, that one hanger, wrapped snugly in warm memories and expensive fabric, only made things worse. Thus, it was an unspoken rule that Naruto's closet was always left shut. Except for today.

Eventually, the dazed blond guided his eyes away from said closet, focusing in on the brightest object in the room at the moment, which happened to be the digital alarm clock. Pushing himself away from the sea of memories that bombard him like a rip tide, he pulled himself up and shut the closet door softly. He knew from experience that slamming it was no good: it only left him with a broken door so that he would have to stare at the damn closet for who knows how long.

He needed a distraction, and he needed it now. Usually, the hyperactive boy (man) eased out his problems by talking about them non-stop until he felt good enough to do something about it- or it just went away (also usually Sasuke's doing). But no one knew about him and Sasuke, not really, and Sasuke wasn't there to help him out. So, as with all things unfathomable, Naruto opted for Ramen to help him out.

Before he realized it, he had made it to the ramen bar down the street, and was sitting with a steaming bowl before him. But he was staring at it, not eating it. He could hear the owner speaking with his daughter in hushed concern over the boy's unusual lack of enthusiasm.

Sasuke had left because... well, he wasn't really sure why. And that hurt the most, possibly. There was no reason. Things had been going really well. The two, who had hated each other the first time they had been pooled into the same work group- Naruto, an over-enthusiastic rookie with "brilliant ideas" (dumb luck), and Sasuke, the seasoned poster-boy for the multi-million dollar advertising business. The mis-matched groupings had been the result of a recent upset of lay-offs, and turned out to be relatively temporary (just under 6 months), but by the end of it, Naruto had built himself a new friendship- tentative, emo, and volatile, but still there. The two would run into each other on breaks, copy-runs, and at closing time. Eventually, Naruto annoyed him for a coffee- outing, and things had just taken off from there.

It got to the point that the two had a relatively secret (shaped not by design, but rather the fact that it seemed too strange, too rare to be let out in the open) relationship- the two would stay over at each others houses, fight and bicker all night, play video games (at Naruto's incessant nagging) or watching old movies (Sasuke's revenge). The two practically lived together by this time, having each acknowledged that the other was lonely (though they'd never admit it) and needed this, whatever "this" was.

And then Sasuke left. His apartment was empty, his job vacated, and Naruto's closet (filled with extra clothing for "convenience's sake") had been cleared. No note, no voicemail, no contact information, no hint of anything. No goodbye. It would have been as though nothing had ever happened, except for one thing. None of Naruto's clothes had been returned to him. Not a single spare t-shirt, pair of pants, or even boxers, had been returned; they disappeared along with Sasuke. The bastard hadn't even returned his spare key. And Naruto couldn't seem to bring himself to change the locks.

But even without the explanation, the goodbye, Naruto supposed he really did know why. He just didn't want to think about it. Because 2 days before everything had been cleared out (2 months and 2 days ago exactly), Sasuke had kissed him when the blond was supposed to be asleep. It wasn't a long kiss, nor hard, nor passionate. Just a kiss. But it might as well have been long, passionate, dripping with lust and messy with slobber. Because Sasuke never did anything like that. Because Sasuke was always calm, composed, and collected, and he did not kiss his best friend. But he had. And now, he had run away.

* * *

A continent away, a brunette sat in a quiet coffee shop, sipping a sugary caramel latte in silence. Not because he liked it, but because it had become a type of comfort food for him in the past 2 months. Even though each sip he took felt like it would make him sick to his stomach. The aftertaste of sugar, cream, and syrup coated his tongue, and wouldn't come out until he brushed his teeth. Twice. But he drank it.

He drank it because he was an idiot. A masochistic idiot. And he drank it because it reminded him of Naruto. It was NARUTO's drink, the one the blond always bought and sipped on (and occasionally spewed out his nose) whenever he and Sasuke would meet for coffee. Because that was where it all had started. And he knew he'd hurt the blond. So now, he tortured himself, silently, privately, in such a way that no one would ever suspect it, other than himself. Because he subjected himself to this stupid, illogical ritual after work for the stupid, illogical act of falling for a stupid blond. Not just any blond, but his stupid, illogical, clumsy, coordination-impared best friend of a blond.

The kiss wasn't supposed to happen. In fact, he didn't even know what he was doing, laying in Naruto's apartment in the dark, groggy with sleep, half in a dream, kissing his best friend. And then all his pretenses had fallen away, and he couldn't avoid it anymore. He had fallen in love with the idiot.

Sasuke didn't do love. So he had left. It had been surprisingly easy to leave, really. He didn't acknowledge that that was because he was actually running away. Sasuke didn't do that either. So here was his catch-22. He didn't love, he didn't run away and since he couldn't deny anymore that he DID love, therefor he must deny that he was running away. There, problem solved. Except for the clothes he'd kept that still smelled like cologne and sunshine, or the house key that he just couldn't throw away.

So he drank caramel lattes after work, and secretly tortured himself with where he could be- what could have been. Because he knew the blond loved him back, he couldn't deny that (anymore) either. And that was what scared him the most.

* * *

Back in the ramen stand, a blond finally broke his chopsticks with a cry of "Itedakimasu", digging in (much to the shop-keeper's relief) to a steaming bowl of miso ramen, having finally come to a decision. He was Uzumaki Naruto! He couldn't let the bastard get away so easily. He would work hard and he would bring the idiot back and that stupid coat of his with its stupid orange lining would just have to hang in his closet until he did.

* * *

So, that's all. Reviews and suggestions would be awesome, but just reading is enough, too!!


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